


Thoughts on a Graduation

by crumpled_up



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumpled_up/pseuds/crumpled_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Cuddy's relationship through different eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts on a Graduation

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[house fic](http://community.livejournal.com/draftno47/tag/house%20fic), [pairing: housecuddy](http://community.livejournal.com/draftno47/tag/pairing:%20housecuddy)  
  
  
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Title: THOUGHTS ON A GRADUATION  
Author: The Madhatter  
Disclaimer: I don't own the show House M.D. nor do I own the characters of Greg House nor Lisa Cuddy. They belong to FOX and David Shore, etc. However, I do own the narrator of this fic. :P  
Rating: K+/PG  
Pairing: House/Cuddy  
Summary: House and Cuddy's relationship through different eyes.

A/N: This idea popped into my head randomly one night and I had to get it out of my system. It's light and fluffy because I needed to get away from the dark and angsty fics for a moment. I apologize for the horrible title, but that's all I can think of… and I just suck at titles, period. I hope you guys enjoy this.

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**THOUGHTS ON A GRADUATION**

As I look from my seat on up on the stage, I scan the gigantic crowd in front of me, searching for two familiar faces. I can't help but wonder why there's such a large crowd for something so mundane as a high school graduation, or rather commencement -- whatever the hell they called these things. Congratulations to us! We made it through the insufferable hell called high school, where students only come to show off the latest fashion design and smoke pot. Congratulations to all the idiots that somehow scraped through by sweet talking the teacher or cheating, while the rest suffered at the hands of bumbling idiots who can't string enough words together to form a coherent sentence – and they call themselves teachers. Bullshit if I've ever heard of anything else in my life. Yet, here we are, forced to listen to them praise us for such an outstanding job as a student. What a load of crap.

Anyway, I finally find the two people I'm looking for. They're sitting about five rows from the front in the center section. There's no mistaking my dad's tall form and my mom's rigid posture. I cock my head to the side as I consider my parents. How in the _world_ did Lisa Cuddy and Gregory House get together and have… me? They're such opposites, it's hard to find an attraction. I guess that old saying about opposites attract definitely ring true for my parents, although they aren't married. Mom says that Dad could never settle down enough to be married, something about being scared of relationships. It's something that doesn't make sense in my mind because they've been together for as long as I've been around, and that's almost 18 years, but whatever. Dad just shrugs and simply says that he's not classy enough for that kind of crap. Two people can be together without a piece of paper and some priest saying so.

Mom catches my eye and smiles at me and I smile back. Dad, on the other hand, looks like he's about to fall asleep any second and could be doing better things with his time. My thoughts exactly. He's fidgeting with his cane, bouncing it up and down, twirling it around, anything to kill time. Mom gently puts her hand on the cane to make him stop and he pouts, but resigns and holds it still – for about five minutes. See, polar opposites. Case in point.

Kate Hudson, the annoying girl sitting next to me, accidentally bumps her elbow into my arm and apologizes. I glare at her and her boyfriend sitting next to her as he tries to tickle her, warning them to knock it off 'cause it's pissing _me_ off. I hate public displays of affection. Just get a room, jeez. It's not that I'm jealous, I'm perfectly fine with being single right now, especially with college just around the corner, but it's probably more of the fact that my parents rarely show that kind of affection for one another. Sure, they have their moments, but it's never overly sappy and romantic like many of the stupid chick flicks out there, where the girl falls head-over-heels at everything stupid the guy does just to get into her pants.

There are moments that touch me in ways that I can't express. My parents have their own kind of language that only the two of them know. They hardly say they love each other out loud, but it couldn't be any clearer that they do. What I find funny is Mom tells me every single moment she can, and Dad… well, he doesn't say it out loud, but the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. Sometimes, there's a look in Mom's eyes that speaks only of love when she glances over at Dad when he's not looking. Similarly, Dad has a look of his own that could be translated into love, or maybe admiration mixed in with affection, maybe devotion – or whatever the hell he wants to call it – when he looks at Mom. At times, it can get a bit disgusting, but that's probably because I'm their kid.

Sometimes, when Mom is frustrated with something at the hospital, Dad places his hand on hers and gives her a gentle squeeze, letting her know everything will be okay. Or when Mom's having a particularly hard day and all the stress of the day catches up to her, Dad embraces her to let it all out. Moments like that always blow me away. Dad rarely shows affection, but when he does, it's like a sucker punch to the gut because it's so… rare and beautiful. Oh, great, now I sound like one of those sappy, hopeless romantics. Damn it.

On the other hand, when Dad gets frustrated, he either sits in front of the TV for hours on end, or locks himself up in a room and throws whatever he can get his hands on. Mom and I call it the Hazard Zone. When it's safe, Mom peeks in, hands him a cup of coffee and massages the tense muscles in his back and throbbing leg. Whatever happens after that is entirely up to them, I just turn up the music in my room or on my iPod.

I look over at them and find Dad pulling different faces in an effort to try and make me laugh. Then, he mimics the principal giving the most boring speech on the planet and that almost makes me laugh out loud. It's not until Mom slaps him on the arm with the program does he stop and makes an apologetic face. _Sorry, I tried, but the Evil Witch here won't let me._ I smile back, letting him know that it was appreciated. God, I love my parents.

But, just like every other relationship, it's not perfect. Ha, perfect. That's a word I'd never hear associated with my parents. They fight, bicker, and argue about everything under the sun. This is their own way of communicating with each other, but on some deeper and weirder level, they understand and respect each other. The worst arguments are about situations that involve the hospital. There are times when it gets to the point where Dad slams his cane on the floor or the table to get his point across. Dad's actually walked out of the house a few times and taken off on his beloved motorcycle for a few hours to clear his head, but when he returns, he always has a single flower in his hand as an apology. I don't know how or why Mom falls for it every single time, but it works. I've learned over time that when Dad appears with a rose, or some type of flower, or something nice, it's his way of apologizing for his behavior or what he said – most likely both. It's sweet for Greg House. _Don't get used to it,_ he would joke with Mom, but he pulls through every time.

I look back at them again as Dad leans across Mom to speak to the man beside her. I wish I could hear what he's saying because Dad's not one for small talk, so this little man must've pissed him off in some way. God, what I would give to just be next to my parents and listen to them argue than to sit up on this stage and listen to this fat, bald man drone on and on about high school academics. Suddenly, the little man recoils like he's just been bitten by a snake as Dad puts an arm around the back of Mom's chair. That's odd. Dad doesn't do that much, even at home. I look over at the small man beside Mom and immediately spot the problem. From what it seems, that man was checking Mom out inappropriately, either that or he looked at her cross-eyed. Wrong move, asshole. Anger burns inside of me, and I wanna run down the stage and deck this jerk. You do not mess with Greg House's son. Hell, you don't mess with Greg House. I take a breath and release my fists slowly. At least Dad took care of the problem and now has her within his protective grasp. My dad's a jealous one, or maybe I should say a _possessive_ one. I glance over at Mom and I can tell she can't decide whether to be relieved the little pipsqueak is scared of Dad or annoyed at the fact that Dad had to come the rescue when she could've handled the situation herself. And my mom's the feminist. Perfect combination.

Kate suddenly falls over in my lap as she tries to get away from her touchy-feely boyfriend that's trying to tickle her still. I send the most piercing death glare I can muster at the two disgusting lovebirds and push her off of me. I glance over at Dad and he has a huge grin on his face, like I just won the lottery because a girl landed on me. Mom… has the same exact glare at Kate and I stop myself in time from laughing. Uncle Jimmy always teases Dad about my Cuddy-patented glare.

_"He can have your hair, your eyes and even your twisted humor, but there's no beating that glare, House. He's definitely Cuddy's son."_

_"Yeah, guess we can't just stamp return-to-sender on his forehead and send him back, can we?"_

Apparently, I have my dad's height, hair, eyes and humor, but the facial structures all belong to Mom. I guess I also have a little more restraint than my dad because I actually can get along with another human being, which comes from Mom's side, of course. So, I guess I'm a combination of the best of both of them. But I haven't decided if that's a good thing or not.

I feel another nudge from Kate and I turn and glare again. Doesn't she get the point? You idiot! Stop touching me!

"That's you! Go up!" she whispers fiercely.

My head snaps up at the sound of the principal's voice. "Jared Christopher House." Now, look who's the idiot.

I stand up and cross the stage as quickly as possible, shake a few hands, smile that professional smile I took from my mom, grab the diploma, and walk back around to my seat. Phew, not too bad. Except I had to wait an entire hour in the sweltering heat just for two seconds of fame. I hate high school graduations. What a waste of time.

An air horn goes off and I nearly jump out of my seat. In fact, everyone turns to glare at the one man who let it go… my dad. He grins and waves at me, while Mom looks like she just had a heart attack and can't decide whether to strangle him or laugh with him. I smile and wave back. Dad is certainly a character.

That gets me thinking… since my parents aren't married, why didn't they name me Cuddy-House instead of just House? Jared Christopher Cuddy-House. Well, I guess it doesn't have the same ring to it as Jared Christopher House, but then at least it'd show their joint custody or something. Not that it's important anyway. I love my parents equally and I have a feeling they'll be stuck together for a little longer. Long enough 'til I get to college anyway. Heh. Uncle Jimmy has a bet going on with the other members of Dad's team to see how long they'll last. He put his bet on forever, so does Cameron, Chase gives them until the end of my first year of college, and Foreman doesn't even want to bet considering how unpredictable my parents are. Smart move, especially since no one really knows the details of how they hooked up, and I'm in no position to want to know those details either. There are some things a kid just does not need to know about his parents. I must say, though, I don't think they'll be separating anytime soon… unless one of them kills the other, whichever comes first.

Another weird thing with my parents is that they still insist on calling each other by their surnames. Maybe it's occupational hazard and force of habit, but it's definitely unusual. Of course, they throw out the occasional Greg and Lisa every once in a while, but it's usually House and Cuddy. I guess being Greg and Lisa is slightly less professional and more intimate, so they reserve it for those special times. But I've always wondered…

Suddenly, everyone around me and the crowd burst in cheers. Is it over? Finally? I try to look around, but all I see are a mass of blue robes jumping up and down screaming with hats being tossed in the air. I don't throw mine up, I'm a little partial to my hat, and it covers my untidy hair. I bend down, pick up a bouquet of roses I bought just before coming here and head down to my parents as fast as the crowd would let me through. I finally fight my way through and end up nearly being pushed into them with my hat tilted downward from the force and a small grin on my face.

"Hey, Mom and Dad."

Dad looks like he's gonna knock out the next person that touches him with his cane, while Mom looks at me with a huge smile on her face. "Come here." My arms wrap easily around her as I take in her smaller frame, and I can't help but wonder when she became like this. I'm taller than her by a few good inches, but not nearly as tall as Dad yet. It seems almost like yesterday that she was the one carrying me around in those small arms, helping me up and bandaging my wounds when I fell.

I let go of her and hand her the roses. "These are for you." I smile at her as tears threaten to fall from her eyes. "Thanks for everything, Mom." And I hug her again.

"And here I thought those were gonna be for me," Dad says, trying to interject some humor into this emotional scene, "or at least some hot chick you've been secretly dating."

Mom is still holding onto me as I roll my eyes. "No, Dad, that's something you would do."

"Shh! Your mother will hear! I thought I could trust you with my secret affairs with all those hookers."

Mom sends him a glare, and continues to cry into my blue robe. "Shut up, House. Can't you at least pretend to be happy at your son's graduation?"

Dad frowns. "High school graduations are so pointless. It's just an excuse to party and wear stupid looking robes, along with stupid looking hats. And, apparently, it's an excuse to make the most _boring_ speeches I've ever heard in my life. I mean, I've heard some of the stuff you've given, Cuddy, and those can be quite boring, but man, this principal guy definitely blows you outta the water. Hands down."

"I'm not sure if I should slap you for that or be grateful," Mom replies, trying to dry her tears and wipe away her running mascara.

I grin at their banter. "He's right, Mom. Graduations are pointless, and just be glad you didn't have to hear those kind of speeches for four years."

"See, even the kid agrees with me!" Dad sticks his tongue out at her. "House boys score one, Cuddy zero."

I laugh as I give Dad a high five. Before I know it, he pulls me in for a rare hug. "Congratulations, Jared. I'm proud of you." He squeezes me one more time, and I swear there are tears welling up in my eyes. That has to be the most profound and affectionate statement I've ever heard my dad utter. I almost don't believe for a second, until he lets me go.

"Thanks, Dad…" I reply, my voice shaky. I know how much it took for him to say that, especially since his own father, my grandfather, never took the time to tell him that he was proud – _if_ – he was proud of him.

He smiles at me, then grabs my shoulder and turns me around. "Go help your mom. She's starting the waterworks again."

"Come on, Mom." I take her arm and steer her through the crowd, keeping a close eye on Dad in case he tries to pull something on some poor unsuspecting victim. "There's no reason to cry. It was just a graduation."

"Yeah, listen to your son's wisdom," Dad butts in. "After all, he had to get it from somewhere."

Mom rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I wonder where that came from?" she retorts sarcastically as she wiped the last of the tears away.

Dad grins down at her mischievously. "Who else? The greatest, hottest and _wisest_ man that ever lived --"

"—George Clooney?"

"No!" Dad pulls a shocked face. "I said _wisest!_ Does George Clooney look _wise_ to you?"

"Well, he's certainly hot enough."

Dad looks offended. "Hey!"

Mom rolls her eyes. "I hope you don't expect me to mend that bruised ego of yours. You're on your own, House."

He scoffs and says, "I was talking about me, but since you're all so obsessed with your _George Clooney…_" he trails off, mumbling what I can imagine obscenities and curses toward the actor.

"You? The most bitter, sarcastic, miserable person to ever live on this planet? I would've _never_ thought!"

Dad glares at her and then a smirk crosses his face. "That's not what you were saying last night…"

I roll my eyes. There always has to be some sexual reference in every argument. "Hey, uh, Dad?"

His ice blue eyes snap toward me. "What? I'm busy 'mending my bruised ego' here." Mom rolls her eyes, too, and smacks him again. "And nursing my broken arm."

"How come I only have your last name in my name? Why not Cuddy-House? Or House-Cuddy?"

Dad's eyebrows scrunch in confusion and thought. "Uh… because that just sounds weird. Duh."

I look over at Mom, eyebrows raised in question. She always has the other side of the story, at least the more realistic side of the story. She curiously studies me, which always makes me feel naked. "Mom… I hate when you do that."

She smiles at me and shrugs. "Greg's right, it just sounds weird."

I look at her incredulously. I _know_ there's more to it than that. Wait a minute… Did they just agree? Mom laughs, pauses and laughs harder. I can only guess that Dad has the exact same look on his face. "You two could be twins!" she gasps out, before erupting into giggles again.

Dad and I look at each other and can't help but laugh. "Don't worry, it'll never happen again, Jared. She's just over emotional 'cause it's your graduation." He does an impersonation of Mom crying. "My son… he's so perfect. Oh, I'm so proud of him. Boo-hoo-hoo."

Mom sends the infamous glare at him and smacks him harder on the arm. "Shut up! I am _not_ like that!"

He leans down toward her and whispers dramatically, "Oh, yes you are, Lisa. No doubt about that." Then, he quickly moves out of her reach before she can slap him again, grinning.

Mom sends another glare his way and hooks her arm around mine. "Your father can be so irritating and immature."

I grin down at her. "Yeah, but you wouldn't have him any other way."

She looks up at me and smiles. "Yeah, unfortunately. He's a bastard, but he's _my_ bastard."

"I heard that!" Dad yells, still a safe distance away from Mom.

Those are my parents. Gotta love 'em. Sometimes, I wonder if I'll ever find someone as good as my mom that I can love. Then again, if anyone can love Greg House, then I'm pretty sure I can find someone, too. But there is no way in hell I'd ever tell my parents that.

Dad climbs into his prized red corvette first and starts up the engine with a grin on his face. Mom, on the other hand, glares at him. "What, are you so above chivalry that you can't even open the door for me?"

"That's what Jared's for."

I shake my head and open the door for her. "Don't worry, Mom. He hasn't grown up enough to get to that stage of his life yet."

"I resent that!"

"No, you resemble it, House," Mom deadpans.

"Besides, when have I _ever_ been a gentleman? That'd ruin my rep." Dad smiles over at Mom and leans over to give her a quick kiss on the lips. "That was to shut you up. Wouldn't wanna ruin the kid's graduation with nasty comments, would you?" He sends her a smirk. "Now, let's get outta his crap hole."

Leave it to Dad to rectify his mistakes with something romantic. No one may believe that he's capable of being romantic, but give him a chance and he can probably pull it off better than Hollywood. Although he'd never admit to it, even under torture. That's Dad for ya.

I hear another smack. "Ow! Jeez, Cuddy. Do I look like a punching bag to you? I should sue you for abuse, maybe even assault."

"I'd like to see you try," she shot back.

As we pull out of the busy parking lot, Mom smacks Dad across the chest this time. "Ow! What did I do now?"

"That was for the hooker comment."

God, I love my parents.

__


End file.
